


Miss Missing You

by orphan_account



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-10
Updated: 2015-06-10
Packaged: 2018-04-03 18:41:59
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 505
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4111099
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>I miss missing you now and then. (A brief piece inspired by the Fall Out Boy song)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Miss Missing You

It wasn’t usual for nations to have flings, nor for them to break them off without warning. Countries were tricky businesses, and their personifications even more so.

Sigurd knew that well, but he would never have labelled what he and Mikkel had as a fling. There had been something else, something in the way that Mikkel had quietened by the fire when they held hands. The words they’d exchanged while curled up in bed. Maybe in the thrill that came with being pressed against the wall of the bathroom in a break at a world meeting with the Dane’s hot breath against his neck, and the looks he’d give him afterwards as Alfred talked.

What was unusual, Sigurd decided in bemusement, was the bottle of whiskey in his hand. He didn’t usually fall apart like this after a breakup, especially after months and months of being apart and seeing each other in that time. Usually, he could disconnect, and go about his business in the same dry manner he always did. Erikur would come and watch movies with him, and they would make stupid comments about his ex-significant other and he would be fine.

_He was supposed to be fine._

Taking a sip of the liquid, Sigurd wrinkled his face. The alcohol had a nasty kick to it, and it made his eyes water. Reaching up, he wiped the tears off his face. The Norwegian figured that Erikur wouldn’t be coming today to talk about Mikkel; after all, he was probably at Mikkel’s. That might’ve been why the stupid Danish nation hadn’t cared when he had left him – after all, there was still Erikur. It was the worst kind of betrayal, he thought grimly, swigging down another few mouthfuls of whiskey and letting the tears slowly inch down his face.

Gods, he couldn’t even figure out why he missed the other so much. After all, Mikkel yelled, he yelled when he was happy and when he was sad, and Sigurd despised emotion, so there was one problem. Another problem was how tall Mikkel was. It was just ridiculous, having to reach up to kiss him. His lips were stupidly soft, and this was foolish, thinking about it was foolish, because he’d seen Mikkel laughing today. His eyes had shone in the way they did when Sigurd had told him he’d loved him. If he could be that happy without him, the Dane was clearly alright. He’d made the right decision breaking up with him. You couldn’t miss someone you let go, right? If you didn’t have them, they couldn’t hurt you. That was how it was supposed to work.

Erikur was supposed to be here.

Mikkel was, too. But they weren’t.

It didn’t matter, he assured himself. They were nations. Landmasses moved, and they’d come back together again, in earthquakes and the shuddering and shifting of molten rock, and then they would settle. But it took a damn long time.

Sigurd took another sip of his drink. 

He had waited before.

He would be fine.


End file.
